Dearest Elsa
by SheenWinning
Summary: The year is 1914, and Germany is plunged into war. Hans, Kristoff, and Eugene are recruited into the German army and are being sent to the western front, while the young women stay home to help. Hans decides that he wants to write a series of letters to an unlikely girl at home. World War 1, (HansXElsa) (KristoffXAnna) (EugeneXRapunzel), M for sexual themes and intense violence.
1. Introduction

The year is 1914, June 28th, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary is assassinated by Serbian Nationalist Gavrilo Princip in Sarajevo, Bosnia. Only a month later, Austria-Hungary retaliated and declares war on Serbia. At the time, Austria-Hungary made a treaty of Alliance with the German Empire, whilst the Serbs had the Imperial Russian Empire for support. Russia mobilizes troops to begin their war with Austria-Hungary, and Germany does the same against them. Only four days after the powder-keg went off, Germany declares war on Russia.

On the same day, Italy had announced its neutrality and Germany signed a secret Alliance with the Ottoman Empire (Turkey).

The next day, on August 4th, German troops invade Luxembourg and come into skirmish with the French at Joncherey. Another war is declared by Germany on France, and then immediately invades Belgium in an attempt to outflank the French forces. Britain then declares war on Germany out of the Fatherland's violation of Belgian Neutrality.

August 7-September 13th, the Germans fight a series of battles with the Belgians, French, and British Expeditionary Force, gaining several victories but being halted by the Belgians. On the eastern front, Russia begins its invasion of Eastern Prussia, but was utterly defeated on August 30th at Tannenberg. For the next couple of years, the Allied and Central powers engaged in trench style warfare, occasionally emerging and attempting an assault on the enemies' lines, most of the time proven unsuccessful.

The war stretched across the globe, from Europe to the Middle East, and lasted until armistice on November 11th, 1918, at 11 a.m.

* * *

The story that this introduction leads to is only based on historical events of the war through information provided by Wikipedia and other reliable internet sources. It in no way criminalizes any country or individual during this time period and in no way is it attempting to offend anyone from their respective European countries.

The characters in this story are purely fictional, based off of new age Disney characters that are implied to be from Germany or other parts of Middle or Northern Europe, and in no way represent real life people nor do they represent Germans accurately (considering they are speaking English in this story for better understanding.)

Historical inaccuracies will likely be present, so don't complain to me like a kid on YouTube who thinks they know more than professional historians. This story is also not an action story, more of a drama/romance with scenes of the war as witnessed by the fictional characters. Parts of the story will be told through POV in letters between the characters on the battlefront and the homefront, along with journal entries.

There is a crossover between Frozen/Tangled in here, though the story is being put under the Frozen section. All characters involved are Hans Westergard (main), several of his brothers, as named by me (Kurt, Franz, Johan, Frederik and Dirk.) Their father, Nikolaus, and mother, Hanna. Sisters, Anna and Elsa Schnaidt; father Arnold, and mother Helga. Rapunzel von Kessler, and Godmother Gothel Ziegler. Eugene Fitzherbert (I know what you're going to say, the last name is Irish. The wiki said that he was German, so I decided to make his father Irish and his mother German.) Kristoff Bjorgman, and several others.

* * *

**Full Extended Summary:** In Germany, 1914, war has plagued over Europe and all the young men are being called to fight. A story about a group of young people from a small village, and their relationships with one another from the battlefront to home: Anna and Elsa Schnaidt are sisters, looking to help out at home anyway they can; Kristoff, Eugene, and Hans along with five of his twelve brothers are recruited into the German army; and Rapunzel lives with her Godmother, Gothel. After living a life of being ignored, Hans decides that as he may never comeback he wants to write his letters to an unlikely girl in his hometown.

* * *

The story will cover more than just Hans and Elsa's connection, but Kristoff and Anna's, and Eugene and Rapunzel's as well.

I will have some fun writing this story, for I think it's one of the better ones I have come up with. Don't forget to read and review, please, I spend a while on these chapters; only five minutes of your time is all I ask.

Enjoy the story.


	2. Chapter 1

**Dearest Elsa**

**Chapter 1**

_A small town in northern Germany_

_1914_

How the sun shines on such a glorious day, reflecting off the rich green fields of farmland through the valley. A single oak tree stood mended to the clean ground, its lively green leaves shaped like stars. A fine breeze passed through the noon air, the leaves on the tree rustling lightly to its gentle brush. A single leaf, weakened at its root, had been disconnected from its home and glided gracefully down, swinging itself side to side and twirling in a dance. It had finally touched down, but not on the ground; instead it found itself nestled into the soft black hair of an overly handsome man. The man had twitched slightly in reaction to its ticklish edges and ran his hand through his hair, brushing off the annoyance.

His features stood quite prominent; the bridge of his nose was straight, delicate set of lips, and a rich bushel of facial hair growing out from his prominent chin. He wore a light button down shirt, the top two buttons had been left undone, leaving a part of his collarbone and chest exposed; and a set of brown trousers, along with matching color boots, the kind that fold down at the top. He rested his back up against the tall oak tree, occasionally adjusting to ensure that parts of the peeling bark don't cause a sharp disturbance to his skin from underneath the thin cotton. His sleeves had been rolled up halfway on his forearms, leaving exposed skin with trickles of arm hairs to the comfort of the summer warmth.

In between his two hands was an opened book, the young man gazing into it with the hint of a smirk at the edges of his mouth, eyes wide as they skimmed along each sentence. The hardback cover was titled with _The Adventures of Flynnigan Rider. _A childhood icon of his; it's the story of a rich fellow that went about his life like a rogue. Those damn British novelists sure knew how to make characters.

His body remained at rest, chords loosened and only half his attention was put to his book. The other half had waited eagerly for the arrival of someone special; but that special someone was being educated in the town's school house. He already finished his schooling, too old to go back; all he had was his work at home, this tree to sit up on, this book to read, and this young girl to wait for. Their age difference wasn't too big, it was only by several years; not saying that her godmother would approve, but it never stopped either of them.

The more he thought about her, the more eager he got. That adorable young and lively face of hers; that soft and long elegant blonde hair; that short stature of hers, one that he towers over in comparison. She was a beauty. He remembers the note he left her one night…

_Gorgeous _

_Meet me by the oak tree out in the fields tomorrow after your class is over; I've been dying to spend some time with you. We could go riding with Maximus again. _

_Eugene_

The school house was located in a greener part of the small town, one with fewer markets and through traffic. It was small enough to be just a one room school house, which could occupy only thirty students at a time, mostly divided by their age group. By noon, the school house would be nearing the end of the older teenagers and next would be the youngsters twelve and below.

The normal day was like the rest; they would arrive early in the morning then recite together their pledge of allegiance to the Kaiser. They would then get on to their education, starting with mathematics and science, then to German comprehension and Literature; lastly going to History studies. After that, their day would be done, and they would be released to go do their work at home.

Kristoff, a blonde haired man with a stature that hulked out bigger than any of his peers, large and sturdy jawline with prickles of hair growing out the tip of his chin and spreading lightly. He knew how school went on better than anyone; he'd been at it for longer than he has known most of his friends.

He was seated in the middle left of the room, easily one of the best seats for learning. But today he wasn't learning, he was thinking of someone. That someone had passed a note to him earlier in class…

_Kristoff _

_You and I could spend some time in my family's barn after school today, if you know what I mean. Doesn't that sound nice? _

_Anna_

He kept the folded up paper in his hand, brushing his thumb across it occasionally. He turned his head to his right slightly, catching a glimpse of the girl, Anna, that sent him the note. He caught in the sight of her, one that he could never get enough of; the lovely young thing with her strawberry blonde hair and the usual two braided pig tails that hung in front of her shoulders.

With his gaze, he knew she could feel him. She turned her head slightly, just like he did, and her eyes darted in his direction. She pulled a half smile with him, holding it for a couple of seconds and then going back down to the paper on her desk. He returned the smile, eyes lighting up with eagerness for later, and he went back to his paper as well.

The day would go on normally, except for now. Everybody has heard the news; the Fatherland was preparing for war with the Russians. At the end of the lessons, instead of dismissing, Herr Snyder had told everyone to stay seated as he invited in a fancily dressed military man, decorated with medals and the iron cross along with the usual black pointy helmet, one that indicated an officer. Kristoff listened closely as he heard the officer speak about him being the town's recruitment officer.

"The Kaiser is looking for young, strong, and able men to take up the bulk of the German Army, and defend the Fatherland and his Allies from the foreign invaders," the officer exclaimed. They were inspiring words, rising nationalism within the hearts of all young German men and women. Kristoff had always been inspired by the country, looking at all the beautiful land that the officer said would be torn down if it wasn't protected. More importantly, he thought of Anna; what would become of her and her family if they had to be moved away by the Russians. The recruiter had opened a new door for him; he wanted to do more than just work in a butcher shop for the rest of his life. Maybe fighting will give him some new stories.

When the recruitment officer was done, he thanked them all and left, leaving Herr Snyder to dismiss the students finally. Kristoff lifted himself out of his seat, turning his head more freely this time looking for Anna, and out the corner of his eye, he saw a shorter girl with long blonde hair rush out of the room faster than the rest of the other students. He knows her; _Rapunzel _was her name, Rapunzel von Kessler. She was good friends with he and Anna, usually she would walk home with them, but now it seems that she is eager to go out somewhere…or to meet someone.

Kristoff didn't mind, as now it would give him and Anna the liberty of running off to the secluded place they would be at.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The farm fields of the Schnaidt family was teeming with wheat and other consumables, seeing as it is the town's supplier in food. Years of work has rendered the green fields to pockets of dirt and dug up ground. The land was widened by several acres, the wheat fields enclosed by a short fence.

The farm, as it is named, has been owned by the Schnaidt family which has been passed down from many generations, making them one of the town's notable families. There was the father, Arnold, who had run the show financially; the mother, Helga, who had been one to manage the farm's labor force. Their two daughters, Anna, and her older sister, Elsa, had mostly been spared the hardships of farm work, and have been allowed freedom to pursue their own needs.

They and the other notable family of the town, the Westergards, have been friends. For the most part, the 13 sons of the family have been the ones to do the manual labor on the Schnaidt farm. Currently, the wheat was taking it's time to grow, and somebody needed to watch out for the crows and other nuisances. The Auburn haired young man, clean shaven and shaped sideburns down to his cheeks, had taken up the mantle of the guard.

He was leaned up against one of the wood chops of the fence, booted legs crossed and a small writing book in his hand. He was writing something into it, a long thought out story of his. The notes described the details of a plotline that involved a faraway kingdom, and an orphaned Princess turned Queen at the coming of her age. Then a young handsome prince came riding along, appealing to her longing to find love and joy, only for the young Prince to eventually execute her.

The things that the young lonesome man, Hans, had been writing about takes rather dark turns. The characters always seemed bright and cheery, but there was always something sinister going on behind it. So is his belief of everyone in the real world; they all had something to hide. It was his inspiration of his literary power, the bane of all of humanity. It all fascinated him, whatever caused misery; he always looked inside the mechanics of evil, how it operated.

Of course, this sick fascination of his was bottled up on the inside, stacked upon layers of sugarcoating. Even the inside of him had to bottle it up, taking interest in things quite contradicting. He loved art, music, land, and beauty. _Beauty._

The character of the Princess turned Queen in his story was mainly inspired by the concept of beauty, from the outside to the inside. The very mark of her was beauty and charisma, her love of life and her elegant smile, piercing blue eyes, lovely red lips. But the decision to have the Prince execute her in the hand shows the fragile reality of human nature; that Death and Beauty are hand in hand. Death WAS beautiful.

He would occasionally stop his writing and think of the Princess turned Queen; the vision of her imagined from the dimension of reality, an _inspiration_ like all artists and creators have. Throughout his childhood he has been on this farm, learning to shoot and take care of crops. The _shooting _was the best part; the handy Winchester Repeater Model 1873. He must've been the only one in Germany to have that rifle, it was a little thing that was created by the Americans, and rarely ever left its soil.

Some nights, he was thwarted from his rest by his parents telling him he was expected to do his job on the Schnaidt farm. A night patrol to search out for any unwanted guests nipping at the crops; and often times he had no problem. The dark was always soothing for him to be in, a place to disappear, remain undisturbed, and to think. But there was always that one light refracting in the window, one that exposed the sight of his inspiration.

The older daughter of the family owned farm, Elsa Schnaidt; she opened up the inspiration of beauty to him. Most nights, he would catch sight of her through the window, the candle light showing barely enough to gaze. She would sometimes be changing, him stopping and admiring the sight of her feminine form, her nude beauty and the moonlight with it. Oh, how gorgeous the young thing was, surprisingly not part of royalty; even more surprising that an heir of the Kaiser hasn't come along and asked her hand in marriage yet.

Her beauty only added up to her character; she was _pure, _a virgin, left untainted by the helm of lust. She never wanted to be, she was pure of heart, mind, and body. Much unlike her younger sister, Anna. Hans had her once, a petty little crush between him and her back when he was still in school and she was still the age of 14, he 17. They took out their sexual tensions on each other in the very barn that occupies the fields away from the house. It was a lively moment, he could remember her yelps like it was yesterday, the rush of someone so young being able to touch him the way she did. They couldn't finish though, the inspiration, Elsa, had come in at the time. When she saw them, she damn near threw a fit of rage, seeing that her little sister that she cared for so much was being dehumanized by someone Elsa's age, at least 'dehumanization' was how she viewed it for someone as young as Anna.

From that day on, Elsa never put any trust in him. It was difficult to cope with someone as elegant and beautiful as Elsa to shun him out like that for something that he and her little sister wanted. He didn't blame her, she was only trying to protect her little sister based on her own pure lifestyle. But now that Anna was older, Elsa gave her more freedoms to pounce around with the men of town, especially that hulking Kristoff. Elsa, however, didn't approve of Hans, and possibly never will; she probably didn't approve of any man for herself either.

Hans felt jealous of her…not of someone else…but of her. Hans wants so desperately to know her better than to watch her from the distance, to snap her out of her trance of pure virginity, to do _bad _things to her, to make her experience the joys of life, to be the first and only for her. That's why he admired her pure intentions, so he could imagine being the first and only to teach her.

It was the dark side of his mind; left in a nice spot surrounded by a glass case, the thoughts of death and sex pressed up against it, was the thought of admiration of the beautiful and pure oldest Daughter of the Schnaidt family, his _inspiration. _

Yes, Elsa Schnaidt is the _inspiration…_no…_is _the character of the young Princess turned Queen; and he was the young Prince.

_CAW CAW_

Flaps of the flying nuisances and their annoying chanter broke Hans out of his own dark thoughts. He immediately turned his head to see the black birds, the crows, gliding down into the wheat fields. His face expressed annoyance and he closed up the small notebook and slid it down his pocket, reaching for the Winchester Repeater that was rested up against the fence like he was. Pulling it into his grasp, right hand wrapped around the end, finger on the trigger. He lowered the rifle so the barrel was pointing straight out into the field while it was at hip level, and he shot off several loud shots, releasing the empty shells with the cocking mechanism below the butt. Each shot scared off a dozen of the crows until they all flapped away, cawing like they do.

He held the rifle pointed momentarily in the direction of the fleeing birds, the barrel smoking, until pulling the cocking mechanism one more time and then lifting it to rest across his shoulder.

Moments later he looked back in the direction of the farm house, and from the top right window he could see a sliver of whitish blondish hair dart back from view and a bare shoulder moving with it. It was Elsa; no doubt that Hans firing his weapon into the wheat field had startled her, but she should've been used to it by now.

Then, Hans noticed something far off in the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly to notice two figures running off in the direction of the barn. It was of course, Anna and Kristoff, the young sister of Elsa leading the big burly man by the hand into the barn. Hans exhaled a puff of air out of his nose in a scoff and walked off in the other direction.


	4. Chapter 3

**First Author's note in a while, and I'm not planning on doing very many of these. This time around, I would like to thank everyone who has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. It means a lot to me to know that my work is being acknowledged and genuinely enjoyed. **

**My question for you today is, do you want me to start a blog for this story on Tumblr? If you've ever read the fic "Mirror's Edge" you probably know the author, shutterbones, runs a Tumblr blog about it and is rather popular. To let you know, I'm not a big fan of Tumblr; I don't like any of the mainstream views that go around on that website, nor do I like many of the people. I am, however, willing to put that aside and create a Tumblr account if it means I can interact with my fans more freely and answer any questions, or post any picture related to my work. I would very much like to hear your answers on the issue. **

**In any cases, enjoy the story.**

* * *

Trots, horse shoes stomping on the grass, the controlled bob of the white horse had moved Eugene in the saddle. His hands had hold of the reigns, his arms making enough room to leave way for a set of small scrawny arms to snake around his waist, the hands connecting together at the point of his belly button. The long blonde haired gal rested her cheek on the back of his shoulder, head turned slightly to the left as she remained at rest with a gentle smile on her face. With her dress, she had to sit in a way so her legs were still stitched together, hanging off the side of the horse, Maximus' rear.

They had remained silent for the whole ride, slowly trotting through the green fields of the valley in the same position as they were currently. It was a quiet little adventure the two could enjoy, like the other small adventures that they have gone on before. But there was talks of a new adventure; a quest of duty and servitude to the Kaiser. He was tempted to take up a mantle in the venture, but he was afraid that Rapunzel wouldn't be able to go with him. He might leave her lonely to the wrath of her Godmother, which in his time with her, he was able to quell. However, he didn't want to be held back from this opportunity of experience.

The words had crossed his mind, but he couldn't force them out; he was unable to speak to her. Instead, he painted on a smirk and hid it until the moment felt right; not now, why disturb the beautiful peace? He planned on telling her his plans when they find another tall and shady tree to rest under.

* * *

There was nothing more erotic than to be nude in the open air of the summer. The barn was unoccupied; far off in a field where peace and privacy was stored to the young couple; a perfect place to mate. Anna was bent over a table at the center of the barn, her fingers clawing at the sandy wood and feet twitching through the hay cover floor. Kristoff was as bare as her, leaning over her, pressing his pectoral muscles up to her back, and his pelvic region slowly thrusting into her rear.

He took advantage of their size difference and wrapped his giant muscular arm around her, holding her body to him tightly and taking in both of her breasts. The other hand grasping her thigh, he used it to thrust even harder as he lowered his head and gently bit at her shoulder. Her moaning stood as his success, he was pleasuring her greatly with their slight fetish of his dominance over her, yet mixed with his gentle embrace. As the thrusting progressed, he would begin to roughen up on her, making her moan harder and yelp more. Now he was pushing his limits, thrusting into her harder and harder, wiping his tongue up and down her neck; her head arching back and her mouth hanging open.

The wonderful grace of that moment came shattering down as dragging wood of the barn door had sounded off, and hinges creaking and swinging open the wood. They both went wide eyed and jumped out of each other's comfort, Kristoff botching his attempts to get his pants on. A quick look up from his struggle revealed that it was the whitish-blondish haired sister of the girl he was nailing, Elsa. To avoid embarrassing her, Kristoff lifted up his pants to cover his erection and made no attempt to finish the zipping and belt as he held it there as he laughed at her awkwardly. Anna looked over the burly man's shoulders, using his size to cover herself seeing as she didn't have enough time to get back on her dress.

"Anna?!" Elsa shouted. "And…Kristoff?"

"Uh, hi Elsa," Anna let out, leaning herself further over Kristoff's arm; her accidently exposing her left breast to view till she realized and pulled back behind him more. "Oops."

"Hi, Elsa," Kristoff repeated her, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. Elsa raised her eyebrow and looked at them furiously.

"In the barn!?" Elsa continued shouting. Anna looked up to Kristoff, he looking back down at her, then turning back to the whitish blonde with nothing else to say. She waved her arms at them to shoo, "Go! Get! Take your business elsewhere!"

With laughs and giggles, the two lovers had gathered up their clothes in their arms and ran out of the barn past Elsa. Sighing, Elsa laid her palm on her forehead and her other on her waist, taking a moment to recollect her cool.

Outside, the tall Auburn haired Hans had stood, wrists crossed and resting on the barrel of the Winchester. His eyes had followed the two nude lovers that ran out of the barn, their clothes nearly falling out of their hands. He put his eyes back on the barn, timing in his head the moment Elsa would step out. Precisely on his count, Elsa came into view, looking around at her surroundings, seemingly to make sure that no one else saw the two until her eyes came into contact with Hans. He was leaning over into the support of the stood up rifle, giving her a cool tempered gaze back. He detected her eyes widen and she turned momentarily in the direction of her house, her head hanging to the side, and then walking off. He continued to watch her until she had closed the farm house door behind her, and then he put his vision in the direction of where the two lovers ran off to; over a hill so they could finish what they started.

He decided that it was better to just leave them be then to put them through yet another unwanted interruption, and went back to his patrol.


	5. Chapter 4

**I have bad news**

**I decided to go and make a tumblr blog for the story but as soon as I signed up, it said that my account has been terminated. I can't make a new one because my emails already "in use." Fuck me.**

* * *

"Rapunzel," Eugene let out. The two had curled up on top of a laid out cloth, the blonde's head nestled into the nape of Eugene's neck until she looked up at him in question.

"What is it, Eugene?" She acknowledged, shifting to sit up and look him in the eye. Eugene held an uneasiness over him, his head hanging down for moments until he pulled it back up to face her.

"I…uh…" He was conflicted on the right words that he wanted to say, "I…I've been thinking…" Rapunzel gently placed her hand on his cheek.

"Yes?"

"This new war that's coming…and the recruitment going on and such…" He laughed nervously, looking at her and noticing that she was clueless and had remained silent; he had hoped that making the statement indirect would lower the chance of her losing it, to make it seem easier. "And they don't really allow women in the army and…stuff like that…" Rapunzel's head arched to one side, clearly she wasn't catching on. "Eh, what I'm trying to say is that…"

"You're looking to join the Army?" Rapunzel finished for him; it seemed as though she did catch on. Eugene looked at her wide eyed in surprise, and then shook his head.

"Uh, yeah I am…" His words hungs loosely, him hoping that they weren't too troublesome to her. Instead, to his surprise, she laid her head back down on his shoulder, twirling tangles of her hair. This left a question, "eh, you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad with you?"

"You don't care that I'd be leaving you with Gothel?"

"You don't have to worry about me Eugene," Rapunzel said, laying a hand on his chest. "Mother said when the war comes around, she's sending me to Frankfurt so I can become a nurse for the wounded," the way that she spoke of hurt men, wounded in battle left Eugene with discomfort. Originally, he never thought about what would happen to him until Rapunzel mentioned it. But he was one for dangerous things.

"Aren't you upset that I'm leaving you at all?" Eugene pressed the questions, this one more jokingly but he still wanted a straight up answer.

"Oh, Eugene," She slid her palm across his cheek, pulling herself in to kiss him. A silent moment, a soft brushing of their lips, and a moment later pulling back, "I understand, and you don't have to worry; can't we just write letters to each other?" Eugene scratched at the back of his head.

"Guess I never thought about that…" She giggled, ran her finger across the exposed part of his collarbone.

"You better sign up quick, Mister," Rapunzel said, placing her chin on his chest and looking up at him. "The line for the recruitment table just gets longer by the day."

* * *

The night had come; the crickets were singing their songs of nocturne, the owl's questioned the sights. The town was lit up by candle lights through the windows, creating a collage of flickering squares and other shapes. Through the window of one house, one fairly large house owned by the wealthy Westergard family, a nightly event had ensued. Dinner time around the table, the mother, father, and all 13 brothers had gathered. Hans found himself on the end of the table, the last down the row of six. He poked his food at his plate, his stomach wasn't craving the food he was given but he chose to reluctantly eat at it anyway.

The Patriarch of the house, Nikolaus, was on the shortest end, the special seat. Eventually, he set down his utensils and cleared his throat for the brothers to hear him speak.

"Boys," he said, grabbing their attention. Instead of looking up at him, Hans remained on the food, using only his ears. "The Fatherland is in great need of men in these upcoming months; and I expect that most of you are willing to put down your lives and sacrifice for the greater good." It was funny the way he spoke of Germany, how throwing your life away equals sacrificing for the greater good. Nikolaus had pestered the brothers into signing up, telling them that the war cannot be won without the Westergard family as its backbone. The older brothers had mostly agreed, Hans, though the youngest, had agreed as well but for different reasons.

With his fascination of death, a war could be his chance to study it closely, to see it at its worst. Even if it wasn't for it, his father would send him away anyway.

The plan was set, whichever brother had agreed to it, they would go into town tomorrow and sign up.

* * *

The Schnaidt family house hold was going through their dinner phase as well; except the size of the table is much smaller due to the fact that the family size is of only four people. Throughout most of the gathering, they had all ate in silence, until Arnold, the father, had spoken up.

"There's a war coming," he said through chews, forking at the meat on his plate. Anna, Elsa, and the mother, Helga, had continued their meals, seemingly like they weren't paying much attention to him. "I'm signing up." Like that, the shifting of clothing on skin had silenced, the utensils held still, and eyes fell upon him.

"Arnold…" Helga let out, reaching her hand to his wrist.

"Helga, please," he retracted his arm away, turning to look at his two daughters, specifically Elsa. "Now Elsa, you've worked at the doctor's officer before, I expect you to do your part and become a nurse." Elsa sat silent for a moment, and then complied like she was taught to. Arnold then went on to Anna, "Anna, I expect that you stay and finish school, then help out your mother here at home as best you can." Anna, like Elsa, remained silent; instead she made no nod or acknowledgement, just simply stared at him. Arnold had tried to go back down to his food, but the uneasy silence had bothered him greatly; he had to say something for reassurance. "Don't worry about me girls, my father had taught me how to fight, I can take care of myself."

Arnold's father, Anna and Elsa's grandfather, was a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War of 1870; the same war that unified the German Confederation into an Empire after they defeated the French. Now in a new era, Arnold Schnaidt, son of Sebastian and Sigrid, father of Anna and Elsa, was to follow in his father's footsteps. The daughters couldn't believe how sudden the news was, and now they had feared, not for his life, but for the sudden change in season.


	6. Chapter 5

The insufferable waiting as if to sign a death warrant; standing in line has never felt like an eternity before. Hans had observed most of the men who had volunteered, and they had a significant age gap, ranging from him to forty. He made note of the few he could recognize; the big blonde burly man, Kristoff, the handsome man of town Eugene, and…Arnold Schnaidt?

The father of his inspiration…he could never imagine that he was joining the fight. With his time on the farm, he heard about his father, how he was in the Franco-Prussian War all those years ago. Maybe death was calling all of them early.

When Hans had made his way to the front of the line, he looked down at the table, finely polished. There was the paper, one separated and turned rightly towards him from the stack. The recruiter that sat at the table slid it closer to him with the tips of his fingers and left a pen on its side. Without bothering to read it, Hans went straight to the bottom where a line and X indicated his signature, along with other information. He scribbled the ink onto the paper as though he weren't writing words, moving swiftly to be over with it. A final tap of the tip, and Hans had signed himself away, the recruiter then directing him off to the side where he would go off and await further instruction.

_I thought I heard the old man say_

'_Leave her Johnny, leave her,' _

The town seemed all quiet, especially out in the distance. It seemed as though the air ambience liked to play in unison with the mood, and the sky had turned grey on this day, as the names of many were signed onto paper. The birds, however, still chirped, as though unaware of the future that awaits the world. Neither was the couple in the green fields.

Eugene wanted to wait for his time to come with Rapunzel to comfort him, knowing he might not see her for a while. They walked, his trousers brushing against his leg hairs; he could feel a small metallic object moving in his pocket to the shifts of his legs. His arm held around Rapunzel's waist, bringing her in close to him, the young girl snugging in tighter to his space.

The farther they walked, the more his mind contemplated what he was planning. He told himself that when he returns, he wants to sit down and have himself the life of a happy hermit. Eventually, Eugene had let her go and took a step in front of her to stop her. Rapunzel looked up at him.

"Eugene?"

"Rapunzel, I'll be leaving soon," he said looking into her big glossy eyes. He then passed his vision around him, leading Rapunzel's eyes with him. "This is near where we first met," he said. The scene they were in was under a tree, an oak tree like the one he was under yesterday. Eugene believed it to be the perfect place for he and her to relish in a memorable moment. "And I believed that it would be appropriate to ask you something here."

What was this he was planning? Rapunzel's expression turned to question, raising her eyebrow as he lowered himself before her, on one knee. He reached to the side of him and wiggled his hand in his pocket, pulling it out with a closed fist. It was then, Rapunzel was beginning to realize what was happening…but she was still too young!

"Eugene…"

"Rapunzel, I know you're only seventeen and I'm like…twenty…Jesus this is awkward…" Eugene then mumbled. "But I expect that it will be sometime till I return and before I go I just wanted to be sure that uhh…" Eugene stumbled on his words, but saw that Rapunzel was waiting for him. He sighed, "I just want to be sure that…I have someone to fight for, so that I can return home to you," He said, looking at her with more sincerity. Rapunzel's eye had shed a tear. "Rapunzel…when I return..." He protruded his arm and opened his fingers, revealing the palm of his hand and a diamond ring that shined with its silver edges. Rapunzel covered her gaping mouth with her hand, her eyes squinting and trying to hold back more tears. "…will you marry me?"

_Tomorrow, ye will get your pay _

_And it's time for us to leave her…_

She slowly and shakily took the ring into her hand and gazed at it. Suddenly she squeezed her palm and burst into cries of joy, throwing her arms around his neck. Eugene countered his with his arms wrapping around her waist, immediately standing up and swinging her around.

"Oh, Eugene, of course I will!" She cried, burying her sobbing face into the comfort of his shoulder.

_Oh, leave her Johnny, leave her_

_For the voyage is long, and the winds don't blow_

_And it's time for us to leave her…_

The day had come for those recruited would be on their way, trucks gathering in the center of town. Anna, Elsa, and Helga had all said their goodbye's to Arnold as he walked off with a briefcase in hand. Hans however, was conflicted about an issue, and he needed it exorcised.

Like Arnold, Hans had on a brown colored suit with a red tie, a briefcase in his right hand, and a matching color flat hat. He was making his way down a dirt street, but not towards the trucks; they still had around an hour before they had to leave, and he kept a close eye on the watch on his left wrist. Instead, his eyes caught sight of the Schnaidt family farm. Making his way across the green lawn, Hans slowed his pace, taking in his surroundings through his hearing. In the distance, somewhere around the back of the house, he could hear swishing and swashing of water. He slowly, but immediately followed the sound of the water, making his way around the back of the house where he caught sight of clothes clipped on their shoulders by wires, a bucket of water and a young woman in a puffy dress and apron bent over and dipping her hands in them, pulling out a soaked piece of cloth in her grasp.

He recognized the near snowy white blonde hair of hers, and knew it was Elsa. He set down his briefcase.

"Miss Schnaidt?" He spoke, a tone barely audible. "Elsa?" He raised his voice this time, just enough for her to turn around wide eyed to see him.

"Hans?" She said, "What are you doing here? I thought you and the other recruits were supposed to be boarding the trucks?"

"We are, but they don't leave for another hour…" He took off his flat hat and rested it on his chest. Elsa acted like there wasn't much to be said, thinking that he was only there to annoy her, but Hans had caught her attention again. "Elsa?" He doesn't call her by her first name very often; nevertheless does he normally talk to her. Elsa looked back at him again, this time pausing her washing and holding her hands out to dry. He approached her smoothly.

"What do you want?"

"I might be gone for a while…"

"So we might have to find a new farm hand…" Elsa said, trying her best to go back to her duties.

"Elsa, please," Hans said. This time, now, Elsa stopped for good, turning to face him fully. Hans looked at her and gulped, blinking several times. "I have no one to write to."

"Don't you have your family?" Elsa asked. Hans shook his head.

"No," he replied. "They don't really care about me…"

"But they're your family…" a quick silence had come over them, Hans tilting his head slightly as he looked at her. "What are you saying, Hans?"

"I know it's strange but…" he said. "But I would really like someone to write to, so I know I won't be alone at least."

_She shipped it green and none went by_

_And it's time for us to leave her. _

Elsa was taken aback by his request; for her to be the one he sends his letter to? It was so out of the blue.

"But why me?"

"I can't think of anyone I could," he said. "I don't have very many friends, Elsa." Elsa remained quiet for the moment, thinking on what he just told her.

_I don't have very many friends, Elsa. _"But I believe that I can find one in you."

Her lips moved, but she said nothing; it was like her mind had gone dead, and then revived itself. Now that her head had been revived, she had new thoughts, and what he said sounded awfully similar.

A lot like herself…

She never had very many friends either, and she always longed for one. And here was Hans, offering it to her. Was this the same Hans that she never had trust? The same one that took advantage of Anna three years ago? Elsa felt very attracted to this offer, almost unwillingly, but felt compelled to accept otherwise.

"Hans…" she let out, many voices coming to her head. "I think I can maybe agree with you."

"So I can send you letters?"

The voices came back to her, beckoning her to do many things, a lot like the angel and devil on each shoulder. But it was her conscience, not her thinking that answered for her.

"If you feel it's necessary and you can find comfort in it…" she said. "I suppose that I can to." Hans replied with a smile on his face; Elsa, again not thinking, also returned the smile but lighter, not necessarily showing happiness.

Everything acted on her good will; she never expected this from him, but she did it out of her good heart, one that she hid. As he put his hat back on his head, he thanked her and turned back and walked off, grabbing his briefcase along the way; then her face grew with uncertainty. Did she really want to agree with him?

_And it's time for us to leave her. _

_-English Sea Shanty_


	7. Chapter 6

_Elsa _

_By the start of writing this, it's July 28__th, __and on this day we heard the news of the Austrians declaring war on Serbia. The contents of this letter may go back and forth as I am repeatedly interrupted for ridiculous amounts of training, but the officer told us it was to help keep us alive. They said that once we were done, they were expecting to send us all to the east for we are most definitely preparing to receive the Russians. I don't know how long it will last. _

_I've recognized several of the men in our battalion, most of them coming from our hometown. Five of my brothers were some, Kurt, Franz, Johan, Frederik and Dirk. I'm sure that you're well aware of Kristoff? The one who has a thing with your sister? I've also noticed your father among us; I'm sorry, I can't imagine how hard it is for your father to leave you like that. _

_July 29__th_

_Our training consists of crawling through mud underneath barbed wire, running for countless miles, taking apart our rifles, carrying heavy equipment, and so forth. You should've seen Kristoff, he struggles to crawl under the barbed wire due to his size, but that's what the training is for. The weight carrying is no problem to him though; he can haul two donkey loads. _

_Your father on the other hand is very physically capable, I have no doubt that he can handle himself well. _

_August 2__nd_

_I'm sure you've heard the news; Germany has finally gone to war with Russia. We still have a couple of weeks of training left to go before they can ship us out anywhere. On the other hand we've began our rifle training, using bayonets and shooting drills. I'm sure you know that I've had my fair share of shooting, and by the first day the Major said I was the most accurate. _

_They have these weapons called 'Machine Guns'. I tell you, they are something else. They are like these metallic rifles that are set in place behind some sand bags and are able to shoot a dozen bullets out with the hold of the trigger. They had several of these set up on one of the shooting ranges and they put us in teams of two; one of us would reload the weapon, and the other would aim and shoot. _

_August 4__th_

_The training goes well, but there has been a change in plans for us. Germany has also declared war on France, and from what I hear, we're invading Belgium. They're now planning on sending us out west. I'm afraid that we're making too many enemies here. I suspect that you're work at home is cut out for you like ours is here; I'm hoping this letter gets to you and you can respond back. _

_Hans_

What you can see now is a cross, the two lines connecting in the center. The very edges of the sight are blocked, the corners curving in to form a circular vision. In the sight, you could see a closer image of a target shaped to be the upper half of a human body, only it wasn't literally a human body. The crossing had focused itself on the dead center, the view shaking slightly until a sudden pop, a jump of the sight, and a small cloud of dust kicking up from a formed hole on the dead center of the target. A direct hit.

Hans opened his other eye and moved his face away from the sight, lifting up his chin to observe the distance to his target.

"My god, Westergard," an old gruff voice had said. Black military boots stained with specks of dirt had landed beside him. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?" Hans' belly was to the ground as he pulled up on the knob and then forward, releasing the empty shell case, and pulling the knob back.

"Sir, I grew up with a rifle in my hand, sir," Hans replied over the loud pops of the other trainees on the ground taking their shots at their targets.

"That's just dandy, private," The instructor had straightened his back out and looked around at the rest of the men. "IF ONLY EVERYONE COULD SHOOT LIKE YOU!" He yelled, mentioning everyone else's incompetence. Hans took a moment and looked down his sight again; the center point being trained on the target again, Hans pulling the trigger and taking another shot.

_3 weeks later_

"Your training days are over," Hans stood at attention, donned in his military uniform, pickle helmet on head and rifle hanging behind his shoulder. "You are now soldiers in the Imperial Army, fit and ready to do combat for the Kaiser and the Fatherland," Kristoff stood beside him, same position, yet it looked different due to his vastly superior size. "You will understand everything you have learned on the frontline, as your teachers have taught you to be soldiers in the eyes of almighty god and our Empire." Eugene, the same, except shorter than Kristoff, and slightly lazier form. Then there was Arnold, the oldest of the lineup, much older, with his mustache standing as his most prominent physical characteristic.

The officer that had just got done speaking to them for a farewell had a mustache heavier and more curved than Arnold's, an eye patch over his left eye, a missing left arm, an officer's decorative pickle helmet, and was mounted on a horse.

"RIGHT," an officer called out; now it was time for them to move out. "FACE!" Simultaneously, the soldiers including Hans and his group shifted themselves facing right, the weapons clacking and the sliding of feet like chalkboard. "FORWARD…MARCH!" Right foot first, then left, right, left; the synchronized stomping of boots, the cadenced pace and stern expressions of each of the soldiers, and off from the barracks they went, and to the train station.

_Dearest Rapunzel _

_I know this is the first, and possibly the last in a while where I can write to you. Our training is almost over, and we are being sent to Belgium. We don't know how long, or what we are going to face, but one thing is on my mind, being able to come back and marry you. _

_You are my drive, gorgeous; I hope that you are safe with that nursing job in the city, and pray that I don't end up seeing you there…well that could be good or bad. _

_I love you. _

_Eugene._

* * *

**The speech by the officer on the horse when Hans and the others were standing at attention was based off the one from **_**All Quiet on the Western Front**_**, even though I must admit that it was a shitty movie. **


	8. Chapter 7

**Well guys, I have good new and I have bad news. **

**The good news is, I was finally able to fix my Tumblr problem and the blog for this story is back up.**

**It's called, dearestelsafanfiction**

**The bad news is, I don't really have any other good news to share.**

* * *

A steam train; it's not as loud inside of it as it is outside. The coplex system of wheels had spun in place along the tracks, leaving continuous thuds in its march. The steam from the front hissed, and a horn had blown.

_Choo Choo _

Traveling by train was the most common use of travel in Germany considering its advanced railway network. The passenger cars had two person wooden seats, not very similar to a classroom but a row was aligned to each wall.

Every other thud of the rail tracks had a bigger kick to it, Elsa being moved in her seat to it every time. Her mother wasted no time sending her to the city, for the news that reached the mainland said that the army was taking casualties already. The sanctums were going to need all the help they can get.

With her legs held tightly together in her seat, Elsa had a folded piece of paper resting between her palm and her lap. On the cover in cursive said, _Hans. _The first letter from Hans had gotten to her just before she left, yet she didn't bother checking it. She sat and stared at it for a moment, eventually putting it into her travel bag.

Elsa tried to clear her mind, listening only to the thuds of the tracks, and looking out at the passing country side out of the windows. But out the corner of her eye, she saw someone familiar. Her eyes focused in the direction of someone in front of her, past the other people, just the one blonde haired girl that sat with her back to Elsa on the other side. She was very familiar with that blonde hair, until her mind made out a face and name. It was Rapunzel von Kessler, one of Anna's friends. But why was she here? Was she going to the city to become a nurse just like her? But she was still only Anna's age.

Elsa didn't know her personally, but knew of her through Anna. She did know her lover though; Eugene. Elsa thought it was strange that a man at the age of 20 would be in love with a girl who was still in school. Speaking of which, Elsa doesn't remember seeing Eugene for quite a while, maybe he went off to the war. But the army didn't really seem to fit him…

* * *

_Leuven, Belgium _

_August 28__th_

Eugene was stirred by the bumps in the road, he shaking to every pothole like everyone else. Suddenly the trucks had stopped, and all they could hear was the clicking of doors and sergeants ordering, "OUT!" He and all the others in the back had jumped out to see the sight of Leuven.

It was nothing.

The buildings had been blown apart, rubble usually standing it its place. A few dirty walls without windows were all that remained.

Hans adjusted the strap on his shoulder and held his rifle higher upon his shoulder, beginning to take a walk through with his squad while his eyes searched through the destroyed debris, trying to make out what the city looked like before. Boot stomps in the dusty street had alerted him and the other three, he looked like a very young man, yet unlike them, he had dirt caked to the skin on his face. He stopped in front of them, the four gathering around.

"You all just shipped in, huh?" He said. "Go and speak to Major Hoffman, he's expecting a combat patrol." The young man nodded and walked past them. The four looked at each other, then all focused on Arnold.

"Let's go," he said, making his way to the front. Kristoff, however, turned back and looked to the young man coated in dirt.

"Hey!" he called out, the young man turning to face him. "I thought there would be some fighting here."

"There was," the young man answered. "The Frenchies and Brits are on the retreat, and the Belgians are still putting up a resistance." The young man turned back to whatever he was doing. Kristoff adjusted his pickle helmet on his head, rubbing it around as if to scratch his scalp. When he turned and found out that the other three were further away from him, he sprang back to catch up.

Eventually they found the major, set up in a large tent in some field HQ in the middle of the square. They all at once clanked their boots together and stood at attention.

"Major Hoffman!" Arnold called. The Major was…short, shorter than all of them, almost like a midget. When he turned, he revealed an old wrinkly face behind a set of glasses and a white-grey mustache. The Major looked up at them, his hands behind his back.

"You're the ones that just came in?" He asked.

"Yes sir."

"Very good," he said, and then turned back to his table. "I need you all out patrolling the streets at once."

"Umm, sir?" Arnold piped.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Uhm, we were wondering if it's anywhere specific?"

"No!" Hoffman yelled, showing that he was clearly one for little patience. "Just go and do it." The four ignored his explosion and turned out the entrance, but Hans was stopped in place. "You, hold on for a minute." Hans stood back at attention as the Major approached. "I heard you were the best sharpshooter sent to me."

"Did they say that, sir?" Hans said, a smile hinting on his face yet he didn't show it.

"I may have use for you when we head to the frontline," Hoffman said.

"What would that be sir?"

"For what we know, the Belgians are trying to buy the retreating Allies some time to dig in," Hoffman explained. "For what I'm guessing, the snipers are going to be the ones to win this war."

* * *

**For those who are wondering, Major Hoffman is supposed to be the Duke of Weselton. **


	9. Chapter 8

_Three Months later_

"GYAHHH!" A poor man had screamed out, twisting and turning on the hospital bed, wrinkling through the white sheets. The right leg of his was severed, leaving a stumpy mass covered in bloody bandages. His jerking in pain had torn open the vessels and his stump began to squirt blood again, bleeding all over Elsa's apron as she cringed in disgust, struggling to try and hold the leg down. The blood now covered her hands, making it hard for her to hold down at his hairy leg for it slipped along the skin.

Other nurses were rushing through the corridor of wounded souls, shouting and commanding. On the other side of the hospital bed was Rapunzel, she holding the man down with little success as his intact parts were flailing around more violently. Nurse Gerda had held the man by the shoulders, her movements being forced by the wounded man's violent outburst. Another Nurse came up beside her, face looking to her for guidance.

"Go and get us more morphine!" Gerda yelled to her, and the other nurse nodded. "Hold him down!" she yelled to Rapunzel who was desperately trying to keep a hold of the man's wrist. The blood was now forming a puddle on the mattress and it dripped down the side of the bed, drips splashing onto Elsa's boot. The man screamed louder and his actions became more violent to the point where he began to assault, punching back Rapunzel and sending her backwards. Elsa's eyes darted in her direction, concerned for Rapunzel's safety; she saw that she had landed at the side of another bed, and was slowly getting back up. Elsa was thwarted from her thoughts as a tight grasp was put upon her arm, and in shock, she looked back down to the man.

His eyes were watering, his face was now shaking in pain and his expression cringed as his yelling was slowly starting to die down until eventually choking silent, mouth hanging open with drool hanging down the side of his face. The grasp of his hand on her arm had weakened, but his face remaining the same, yet silent. Elsa's mind began to dart back and forth, her heart beat thumping rapidly in fear. She put forward her two fingers up beneath the man's jawline, and she breathed out to feel that there was no movement, no pulse like hers.

She looked up to Gerda silently, who looked back at her, hoping for an answer. Elsa shook her head, slowly, eyes closed in disappointment. Gerda sighed exhaustingly releasing her hold on the now dead man's shoulders. Elsa looked back down to the now dead man, her eyes meeting his dead ones that just looked back to her like they were blaming her for his death. Those…haunting eyes of death…she has seen it too often in the past three months…too often. All she could do was stare back with a grim expression.

"…He was on my watch…" Through the silence came Rapunzel's voice, stuttering; her eyes turning to glossy pink. "He died because of me…" She began to back away, her two hands covering her hanging mouth as her eyes watered more. "It's my fault…"

"Rapunzel, don't say that," Gerda tried to assure, but Rapunzel immediately turned and stomped away. "Rapunzel!" She was already too far away, Gerda scoffing in defeat and then looking at Elsa who could only give her the same stare she gave the dead man. The old nurse looked down at her dress, seeing that it was completely covered in red blood, her hands completely soaked. "You should get washed up and changed, dear."

* * *

_Hans _

_I was able to find the time at night to write to you, for it is only appropriate to respond to your letter, even if it has been so long. I do it because I'm afraid; I have seen the faces of many suffering men, most of which have died under me. The last one that did had looked at me straight in the eyes as I could see life come out of him. _

_Seeing all of them, I become worried about the others on the field, especially my father. I figured that if you two are with each other, then can you pass a message for me? Can you tell him that I love him? And that he needs to return home in one piece. I have never been so worried about someone in my life, but I fear every day that my father ends up in my care and that he has to die on me. _

_Death, I must have that effect on the people I touch. _

_I am glad that I can send this letter; at least it can make me feel better getting my thoughts out to someone, even if it is you I send it to. I wouldn't mind hearing back, that is if you're not already dead._

_Elsa._

* * *

"Westergard!" Someone called from beside him. In the light of the gray morning, dug inside the ground was the figure of a man in uniform. The closer he got, the more his features stood out; dirty and grimy from the trench mud. Hans folded up the letter and stuck it inside his trench coat, lifting himself to his feet by the muddy walls. With him he brought up his rifle to his side, resting the butt of it on the ground by his leg, and his posture straightened, paying full attention to the sergeant that approached him.

"Sir," he said. The sergeant stopped in front of him.

"A sniper is pinning down our sector…"

* * *

_Ypres, Belgium_

Through the claustrophobic trench way they made, stepping through gaps between the wood on the ground of mud, rats scurrying through their boots. As Hans followed, several soldiers had passed them, and they were carrying a downed man by the arms and legs. The downed man must've been hit by the sharpshooter who alerted the sergeant to consult with Hans, one of two snipers in the sector.

Hans took a good look at the face; it wasn't there. All that stood in the face's spot was a pulpy red blotch and a hole, blood and brain spilling out of it. The poor fucker must've lifted his head above the trench; only snipers should do that. If Hans was dealing with someone that can pop off someone's head without a scope, then there is a necessary need for someone with his skill.

Further down the trench line, Hans made contact with the rest of his group. Eugene was sitting up against the wet muddy wall, and upon seeing him, used his rifle to help lift himself up and adjust his helmet, looking to Hans concerned. Kristoff, Arnold, and one of Hans' brothers did the same. Hans stopped in his tracks and looked to all of them, his rifle leaning against his shoulder.

"We have a plan," the sergeant said, stopping and turning to face Hans. "We'll have you on one end, and Schafer on the other," he said, pointing his finger to the ground and in other directions as if to give guidance to what he was talking about. "Fitzherbert here will provide a distraction…" The sergeant bent over and lifted himself back up, in his hand a stick, burned near black as rubble from a once standing tree of the Ypres woods. The sergeant reached over and grabbed at the point on Eugene's helmet and pulled it off of him, placing the pickle helmet on the stick. He then handed it back to Eugene, who fumbled it in his hands. The sergeant poked at Hans' chest with his finger. "Don't fuck this up; Colonel Hoffman cannot afford you to fuck this up."

Hans stood, lifting his rifle to his other hand so he could have a firm grip on it, indicating that he was ready when they were. The sergeant nodded to all of them. "Alright, make ready; and Godspeed." They all moved out, Eugene holding up the stick just below the trench line, pushing himself up against the muddy wall again and looking up to the gray sky. Hans turned back around and began making his way towards one of the lower points of the wall, beginning to crouch until he found one of the lowest spots. He pressed his chest up against it, taking a deep breath in nervousness.

He looked down at his feet, beginning to think of the possibilities of outcomes; will I die? Will Schafer die? Will the bullet bounce off of the pickle helmet and kill Eugene? Kristoff? Or even worse, Elsa's father? Hans closed his eyes, and took a shaky deep breath, waiting for the moment until he slowly crawled up, exposing the bare minimal of himself.

Slowly, almost very minimal movement, Hans slid his rifle through the mud to his front taking a shaky hold of the wood. He looked across the rugged plain of black ash, and could see almost nothing on the other side, at least not at this distance. A moment later, Hans put the scope up against his eye, closing his other one and embracing the enhanced vision.

It started off askew, adjusting his sight so it was perfectly circular; and then the crosshairs couldn't remain on one point, shaking around too much. Eventually, he overcame it with deep breaths, his chest enlarging and shrinking through each inhale and exhale. He caught his sanity, finding the very front of the enemy line, yet he saw no one. He began to slowly turn his rifle on a placement, his scope vision making it seem like 100 miles per hour. Further down it went, and then…he stopped.

Hans thought he could make out the tip of a British hat, seeing it move slightly, and the metal tip of a rifle, yet no scope on it. It was hard to tell, still considerably far out even for the scope sights. It was when the tip of the barrel released a muzzle flash and a loud pop that Hans understood what it was.

He could hear the bullet hit something farther down the trench; hopefully not one of his men, but the helmet decoy. Hans knew that now was the time to act; he adjusted his weapon, losing sight of the enemy again before picking up the hat come slightly back into view. He took a deep breath, steadying his focus and placing the cross hairs on the tip on the lowest part of the hat he could get without aiming to the ground. Once placed, Hans teased the trigger, believing that there had to be a better moment than this one, one to better his chances. When he saw an arm protrude in a motion of the cocking mechanism, he saw that the head exposed itself a little more to expose the forehead. It was that right moment that Hans replaced his crosshairs on the forehead, and immediately pulled the trigger. A jump of the sight, and it quickly came back down as a very loud shot rang through his ears. The next image he could make out was blood splatter, and a hat flipping backwards, a head with a chunked hole in the forehead dropped down and out of sight.

Hans inhaled in shock, pulling his eyes away from the scope and looking out at the field with his naked eye. Immediately, for his kill, many feelings came to him at once. A…hot fire that burned in his chest, almost like regret for sending someone away…another…fear. Fear that he just gave his position away, and that he was next. Hans quickly and rapidly pushed himself back down into the trench, letting his rifle slide down along with him. He landed on his butt, his back up against the wall, holding his rifle close to him, and his head leaning, eyes wide, and ventilating air waves.

* * *

_Elsa_

_I doubt that what you experience isn't as bad as I have. In just a few months, I have seen people die, just like you have, only in worse ways than you can imagine. _

_I know this full well, I caused one. I blew a man's head off, and immediately regretted it. In my reading, I have read that the feeling of killing a man for the first time was like stealing for the first time; you feel terrible and regretful at first, but the more you do it, the easier it gets. I'm not sure that it could be considered a good thing in the eyes of innocent people, but me? I have to find it a good thing. _

_I have a feeling that I'm going to be carrying out more of this in the future, and something beckons me to look forward to it, as terrible as it sounds. _

_Death, like you said, everything you touch seems to die; I'm sorry to hear that. I never took you for the Grim Reaper, always took you like a healer. I thought you worked in an infirmary before? _

_It makes me laugh, our line of work. It's completely opposite, but your admittance to your hands of Death, it makes me think on cold frosty nights of how similar we are. Not like it is something you want to hear, I know what you think of me. _

_By the way, I told your father about your message; he seemed rather surprised that I was the one relaying it to him. He said that he would send a letter of his own to you and your family, but in short, he wanted me to tell you he loved you as well, and not to worry about him. _

_Hans_

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**Don't forget to review. Remember, the more kind reviews I get, (including the ones with constructive criticism) give me inspiration to write and do better. i hope you all can understand how much I like feedback. **


	10. Chapter 9

**Hey guys, I'm just letting you know that the Tumblr I have for this story is still up and is ready to post any time. I'd very much appreciate it if you all were to follow it. I'll have a link on my profile. **

**Anyways, enjoy the story while you can, and don't forget to review. **

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In the wake of the morning, Eugene was found with his helmet off, bare feet exposed. His boots were set off to the side in an attempt to dry, ironically in the wet mud. He crossed his legs and had a towel to his feet, rubbing at them to wipe off the mud and avoid bacterial infection to eat away at them like the last couple of ship outs.

Once he was done with one foot, he would switch to the other, resting them each on a wooden crate. As he continued, he looked up and saw Kristoff in the corner of a trench corridor that ran vertically to his. He noticed that Kristoff was crouched, looking down with his back to him. His hand was reaching someplace, and that his arm was shaking back and forth by the shoulder.

Eugene squinted and pushed his face forward, trying to get a better look; and when he heard Kristoff's heavy breathing, Eugene pulled away in disgust.

"Ah God, Kristoff!" Eugene yelled, "You can't do that in the shitter?"

"It smells like shit in there," Kristoff retorted, continuing his hand shaking. "Besides, whose job was it to clean that out anyway?" He added in a sarcastic tone. Eugene shook his head, looking back down to his feet scrubbing in an attempt to ignore him.

* * *

Hans was somewhere further down the tight corridor of wood and mud; he rested himself up against a wall to rest on, his eyes closed, arms crossed for warmth and was nearly snoring. Upon hearing slush footsteps across the mud and thuds on the wood, Hans snorted himself awake his eyes wide and his conscience detecting a presence that sought him out. His eyes shot upward, taking in the sight of a clean shaven man with a shaped thin moustache looking down at him, blocking the light of the sun so he would come off as a shaded figure.

"Mr. Schnaidt?" He asked, tiredly, shifting on his seat to sit upright. Arnold moved to sit down next to him, setting his rifle up against the wall and him with it.

"Hans," he said, sighing and setting himself down. Hans comforted himself again, but couldn't go back to sleep. Immediately, a tubular object came into his view, held between the fingers of Arnold. "Do you smoke?" Hans looked over to him and then back at the cigarette, taking it reluctantly in his hand.

"Thanks," he said lightly. Arnold pulled one for himself and then a lighter, reaching over to flick flames onto Hans' cig first. Once lit, Hans put the tube between his lips and inhaled, taking in the stinging feeling of the ash and black air from the burning tobacco. He let it settle in his lungs, tingling and spicing for a bit, and then let it all go in an exhale, pursed lips to guide the escape of the now gray cloud.

"You're other brothers are here of course, am I right?" Arnold said, taking in a puff of smoke himself.

"Franz is here," Hans replied, taking a puff and continued speaking. "Johan and Frederik are near Verdun in France, Dirk is somewhere in the east, and Kurt, I believe, is in Gallipoli." Arnold nodded.

"I got a letter from a distant brother of mine," he said. This caught Hans' attention, as he didn't know Mr. Schnaidt had a brother. He turned his head and looked at him with eyebrow raised. "His name is Joseph, he lived in Stettin and we never said a word to each other for years until he sent me that letter." Arnold sighed, looking straight ahead at the other wall. "He wanted to follow my father's example…joined the army way before this war began." He turned his head as well to look at Hans. "Like your brother, Dirk, he is also in the east."

"Really?" Hans let out; Arnold turning his gaze back to the wall again and taking another puff of smoke.

"He was at Tannenberg," he said. Hans only absorbed what he said, but couldn't say anything else. He wasn't much of a conversationalist, and rarely spoke with anybody. Hans only slowly turned his head back to him and let it hang, like Arnold, taking drags from his cig. "So why are you and my daughter sending each other letters?" Hans on the inside felt surprised, embarrassed, other words of feelings like that, but he didn't let it show on his face, kept his composure. Instead he remained the same blank face, his hand with the cigarette in it dangling over his knee.

"I just wanted to talk to someone at home," he put simply.

"Hm," Arnold murmured, nodding. "That's good, at least it can get her to start talking with someone…she isn't a very sociable person." Hans thought on that, kind of like how he wasn't a sociable person as well. "She was always so…committed to her duties." Arnold looked at Hans again. "Did you receive anything from her yet?"

"No," Hans replied.

"Eh," Arnold let out, and then pressed on with his rant. "She knows everyone, but barely speaks to them...I worry about that, a lot. All I want for her is to maintain a normal life, find a husband, start a family, work to care for people…" Arnold said. "Not become a nun…"

"I don't think she's becoming a nun…" Hans said, taking another drag. Arnold scoffed, like the statement was a dry joke.

"Still, she's unlike her little sister, Anna," Arnold continued. "She was always outgoing, extroverted, friendly…I think at this point it's more likely for her to be the one to start a family." The two remained silent of a while, taking puffs and drags of the smoke until Arnold came back. "It seems that you are really the only one who has gotten Elsa to open up a door of some sort."

Hans looked at him oddly, releasing smoke from his mouth, but he went back to his own space.

"Hans," Arnold said, Hans paying full attention to him. "You can understand that what I want for my oldest daughter is for the best?" Hans thought on it, and hesitantly and lightly nodded. "Our families have maintained a friendship for a while, but it only seems appropriate that I would allow you the right for her hand in marriage, should you survive this war."

This took Hans by complete surprise; Elsa's hand in marriage? Where did that come from? It wasn't mentioned anywhere in his letters, nowhere did Hans mention to Mr. Schnaidt that he wanted to marry Elsa, but what was he thinking?

Hans looked at him confusedly, and he was about to speak his mind until a whistling grew louder and rocketed from the sky.

"ARTILLERY!" Someone shouted. Then, huge explosions erupted around the trench line, kicking up dirt, muddy water, and shrapnel and sending it flying in a hazy mess. Arnold and Hans threw themselves face first into the mud, covering their head and keeping them low to avoid the flying objects. The ground was shaking violently, the sounds so loud that Hans was beginning to hear only a ringing. This went on for moments until the shaking stopped.


	11. Chapter 10

**Don't forget to follow my blog on tumblr; the link is on my profile. **

**I want to write a chapter for the homefront, but I honestly can't think of anything for Elsa or Rapunzel, not after the last time we see them. The only thing I could think of is something for Anna, but that'll come a little later. **

**For now, I decided to write something more calm, and slows everything down. **

**In other news, I just announced a new story (I know, I start too much and can't finish enough), it's a tangled western. If you're interested, I put up the info on my profile under 'future stories announced' if you want to read what it has to say.**

* * *

Letter Interlude

_Anna_

_Apart from my machine gun duties, I found the time to rest and write to you finally. You must be worried sick about me, and I'm afraid you should be. _

_I thought serving the Kaiser would bring great honor, but what's the honor in all this? If you've seen this place, then your little heart would die. So I'll spare the details. _

_And for the first time in forever, I feel lonely again. I used to enjoy being by myself and by my dog, Sven, until I met you. But this is a lonely that exists only in Hell. I begin to think all the negative things that I have felt before, how people will beat you, and curse you, and cheat you. It's like every one of those thoughts exist out here. I keep trying to think of you, but the faith that you gave me is starting to die, as hard as it is to say. I am, however, happy that you are safely secure and that you don't have to see this. _

_Anna, I don't want you to lose your marbles, but I've seen good people die in horrible ways that you can't imagine. I'm afraid that my time draws near, though I have to keep fighting, if there is ever a chance to see you again. It all pains me. _

_The time that I know I'm dead will not be when my breathing stops, but will be when I lose the rest of the hope that you gave me. _

_Kristoff_

* * *

_Dearest Rapunzel_

_I have never been so scared before. _

_There is no adventure in this. This was the worst mistake of my life. The only thing that keeps me going is my promise to return to you, but now, even that seems lost. I can never stop fighting for that. _

_Forgive me by how short this letter is, but I am constantly distracted by explosions, disease, and my thought process has possibly deteriorated. All of our thought processes have deteriorated it seems; your friend Kristoff as well. _

_I can't forget what I promised to you, that I would come home and marry you, live the rest of our lives in happiness then spend eternity with it. But this place makes the promise seem to but just a hope, and I read in a story once that hope was an illusion. I'm sorry if I come off too cynical but you have to understand the living hell that we're walking on. If you were here, you'd understand, but fortunately you are not. You wouldn't be able to survive this, not emotionally. I'm glad you don't have to see this; I'd hate to see what it does to you. _

_I can't hold true to the promise, but I'll keep fighting for it. I want to come home, marry you, live the rest of our lives in happiness, and after that, eternity. It is well worth the effort to make up for right now. _

_I don't believe I could ever find happiness after this if it isn't with you._

_Eugene_

* * *

_Elsa_

_I haven't heard back from you in a while, and I'm beginning to wonder if you're deliberately ignoring these letters. If you did write a letter, then I can imagine what you would ask…_

_Yes, your father is fine; he had a fever a while ago, but he's over it now. _

_No, I haven't killed anyone else. Although, I'm afraid that interval is drawing close to an end. I'm hearing talks of an offensive on the enemy lines, and that we're bringing something new to the table. That something new must not be good for them. _

_The thoughts aside, I've learned something new about you from your father. It seems that you are so indulged in hiding from everyone; to keep your doors shut and not letting anyone in. Your father is worried, it's like he barely knows you. Does your mother know you? What about Anna? You seem too protective of her to at least get to know her, especially that moment a couple of years ago. _

_What I ask is this: why? _

_What are you so afraid of? _

_Unfortunately for you, you made the mistake of opening up to me, pulling yourself so out of trance yet you still try to put up the act of intolerance towards me, and for what reason? You admitted to me that you feel that you have a problem with yourself, even though it wasn't direct. I can sense it in your writing, the way you speak of yourself as death, how everything you touch DIES. _

_Maybe you are just so insecure…I'd hate to be the one telling you that, but there really is no other assumption. _

_Another thing I ask, can you trust me to open yourself up? My belief in this world is that everyone has something to hide, and it's only going to make yourself worse should you not admit it to someone who can keep it hidden for you. I know this, I have secrets of my own, and I need them shared. I'm willing to share them with you should you share yours with me. _

_I may not come off as someone that you can trust, but where do you think I am right now? Even if I did get it out, would it matter to those around me? I don't have to tell any of this to your father. _

_I promise, everything that's written between us from now on can stay between us, if that is what you'd wish. _

_Hans_


	12. Chapter 11

Anna was pulled into the real world rather quickly; with the young able men gone from daily life, it was up to the young women to take their place. Anna, like most, had been sent by her mother to the factory districts. The conditions there were unlike anything she has ever experienced before. Blistering heat and humidity, accompanied by the sweat, aching muscles, and constant ringing of hammers on hot metal replaying in her head. All of it was necessary to shape artillery shells for the fronts.

From what Kristoff had said to her in his last letter, the battle was a violent and unnerving stalemate, and from her school house education, she could tell that everything rode on Germany's work force on the homefront. Without an economy, there would be absolutely nothing to fight with.

Recently, the boss had given them the order to speed up production, and Anna knew there was something big on the line. But the people spared the boss their whining, for they were promised a raise from the short period of time.

She worked on one of the assembly lines, using her little strength to hammer down bolts into the sides of the metal casings. Repetitive motions, vibrations of impact that ran up her arm had rendered it in times of rest to an uncontrollable shake. The glove on her hand had rubbed and scratched it's fibers across her skin so much that it had become sensitive every time the gloves were removed. The sweat dried on her palms, leaving behind a putrid and memorable smell; the other sweat poured and wet her arm pits and drenched her work dress, and yet she barely had time to clean herself.

The food during lunch break started off as decent, but eventually turned to grime. The boss was attempting to put the budget more into resources for production and forgot completely about the well-being of the employees. Soon, Anna had grown a tolerance for it, eating ketchup mixed in water; she hadn't vomited as much as before. With a stomach full of cheap and disgusting food, they would go back to work in the uncomfortable and blistering heat. Those that worked in the smelting chamber had it worse; the stomach aches, cramps, hard labor, hellish heat and drenching sweat nearly forced out vomit, sickness, and heat exhaustion. Anna was lucky that she only worked on the assembly line, hammering the same part down, over and over and over again until her arms gave out at the end of each shift.

Workplace deaths were…common, but most of the time they would happen in the smelting chamber. She never saw it happen before her eyes, but she has seen the damage. Sometimes a work dress would catch on fire, and it would burn a poor young girl to a crisp, leaving behind meaty skin of blood and char and nothing but absolute pain. Anna had seen some of them carried away, still very much awake and alive, screaming out in agony as though the devil's fires had engulfed them eternally. She worried about which soul was next to the call, to be sacrificed to the concerns of industry.

Her sister must've been in a more psychologically threatening position, having to play nurse and tend to the good as dead. Her friend, Rapunzel, was the same; the girl was too sweet and innocent to be involved with pain and grief, but then again, so was Anna. The war not only takes lives, but stretches the boundaries of innocence as well. There's always a war around somewhere.

* * *

"Nurse…" A painful, groggy voice whispered out. Elsa turned from the clipboard and pen to see a man with brown messy hair, half closed eyes, and his head turned sideways on the pillow.

"Yes?"

"Will I…be alright?" He asked. His voice was very weak and sounded like he spoke with a lisp. Elsa worried about him, taking a closer look at the hurt expression on his face; a deep frown, black and blue bags under his eyes from sickness, and skin that turned a deathly pale. She gulped down and blinked.

"I'm not sure, Kristian," she reluctantly replied. Kristian Himmel, she read a report on him; she read a report on most of her patients. He was apparently a really young man, and he was so clumsy on the ground that people quite often referred to him as 'Hiccup', and it became his nickname. He was supposed to be an Air Force pilot that flew reconnaissance over Verdun. Unfortunately for him, French soldiers had fired on his aircraft, and a single bullet had surprisingly penetrated the metal hull and tore through his left ankle, completely severing it from the rest of his foreleg.

Though he was supposedly clumsy, it was made up for in the air, and by a stroke of good fortune and piloting skill while under tremendous pain, he made a crash landing back at the air base, where he finally passed out from the loss of blood. It was a good thing now that the bloody stump on his left leg was wrapped up, stopping the bleeding. His blood count was low, but he should make it, his body will produce more; he just…doesn't look well.

Elsa thought, out of misfortune for him, since he was already clumsy on the ground it would only get worse now that he is reduced to one foot and will have to use a cane; it's even worse considering how young he was.

"Please, people call me Hiccup," he said, stirring in his bed. Elsa laid a hand on him to stop him from moving.

"That doesn't seem appropriate," she replied, repositioning the pillow under his head as he rested back down. He huffed in through his nose, and his face puffed, eyes watering.

* * *

_Hans _

_I look in this world and I see nothing but savagery. This war was started because of savagery, people are dying because of savagery. The reason I'm so shut out is because I hate the world as I view it from safety. I wanted to be a nurse, but now I want to give all of that up now that I'm pulled into this. _

_I hope this short letter can answer your question; and NO I'm not afraid of it. _

_In other words, it's good that my father is okay. Send my love to him. _

_Elsa_

* * *

Hans sat crisscrossed in the mud, back up against the wood. In his hand he had the letter that was finally sent to him from Elsa, and he was rather…displeased with her answer. He could read the way she wrote; as a writer, he has to sense these things. She's very insecure about herself, and likes to bottle things up…much like him. At least she was able to milk out her world view…and it's a lot like his.

Wow, a lot of similarities he can detect between them in just one simple letter.

Suddenly, he felt something thud in his lap, and he pulled the paper away from his view to see a bag green bag with something stuffed in it. He looked up to see who threw it, and saw that it was the other Sniper in the battalion, Eric Schafer, with his combat helmet on, the edge just above his eye line.

"Be ready, we're prepping an attack," he said, turning around and walking off.

"What is it?" Hans called out, but he got no reply as Eric disappeared behind one of the turns. That damn Eric, all stern and stuff. Hans could figure why.

From the stories that was told by his comrades, Eric was supposedly born in Denmark, but had German nationality; for Hans, his father's father immigrated from Denmark, so they were kind of reversed. Like him, Kristoff, and Eugene, Eric was from a northern town in Germany. Before then, he was supposed to be a wise and witty fellow, living an average life with a love of his who went back and forth between Germany and Denmark to meet him. His father was a navy officer, but he had no higher rank to achieve the title of 'von Schafer'. Eric had thought about joining the navy with his father, but he was told to go into the army instead. He was supposed to have been a part of the earlier engagements in the war, more specifically Germany's initial invasion of Belgium.

But those talks were told by a mix of people who knew him and rumors made up by newer ship ins. After the initial invasion, Eric just lost his humor, and lost his sociability; he's even gone as far as to not write letters to his love and cutting off communication with his father. It was apparently such a drastic change that the new recruits began to think of what happened. Of course, they didn't know much about what they did to Belgian citizens, really only the old breed knew that. Eric has committed some awful travesties and it let him destroy him on the inside; that is why he is so quiet and stern.

Hans looked down from the trench way and held the bag in his hands, feeling certain solids in it. He slid the button from the hole and flipped up the top, and then he pulled out something that looked like a face with large circular eyeholes, large cylinder shaped object being held in place of the mouth, a piece that goes over the head and a set of straps.

Hans now knew what was being planned…the thing he held in his hands was a gas mask.


End file.
